Out of Control
by BrenRenQoI
Summary: Sam Introspective following the events of Seasons Seven and Eight


Out of Control

by Bren Ren

Summary: Sam Introspective following the events of Seasons Seven and Eight

SPOILERS: Everything Through Season Eight, esp Grace, Chimera, Affinity, & Threads

DISCLAIMER: How many times do I have to tell you guys, if you'd written this into the story in the first place, we wouldn't have to go and fix it ourselves!

Out of Control

How did I end up here? How could things have spun so out of control? How could I drift so far off course?

Easy, I listened to Mark. "When was the last time you had a real date, anyway, Sam?" I remember I almost dropped the phone, blushing as I recalled sharing lunch at O'Malley's with a certain chocolate-eyed Colonel a few weeks before. I suppose **technically** that didn't qualify as a date, but it was the closest thing I could think of. Mark pressed on, relentless. "He's a nice guy, and he'll only be in town for a couple weeks. If it doesn't work out, you can go crawl back inside your mountain and never have to worry about seeing him again. But I have a feeling you'll really like him if you just give him a chance."

So I met the guy. We dated. It was fun. And yes, I liked him a lot. Hmmph. I hate it when Mark's right. I hate it when anyone but me is right.

Then, suddenly, just as things were supposed to be wrapping to a close, just when he was supposed to be leaving town, going home, leaving me to resume my complicated, adventurous, lonely life, the man went and pulled the rug out from underneath me, swept me off my feet in a way I'd really never dreamed of—I honestly never wanted that sort of thing. But here I was, being romanced, wined and dined, the whole nine yards. What single, thirty-something, sex-deprived woman of the twenty-first century wouldn't pounce on the opportunity? How was I to know he would fall head over heels in love with me—in two weeks! What's a girl to do?

Then… trouble in paradise the very morning after. When he walked out on me because I couldn't be honest with him about what I do, it hurt. For about two minutes. Then I got mad. For crying out loud, it has only been two weeks! And he's talking about growing old together, having a future, sharing my **life** with him. That's huge. Trust him? I barely know him. He may be a friend of my brother's, but that doesn't mean I know him.

When he got hurt on the stakeout at Daniel's, I freaked. I've lost enough people close to me and I wasn't ready to lose this one just when I'd started wrapping my head round the idea of him being a long-term part of my life. I never should have promised to tell him everything the way I did, but… like I said, freaked. Sensory overload happens to the best of us, right?

It was during the post-mission debriefing that I found out what he'd done behind my back. You know, I've wondered if I'd found out about his call to the FBI before the stakeout—General Hammond had decided to wait to tell me, didn't want it affecting the mission, of course—I've wondered how different things might have been. Yet another fork in the road. Sometimes I really wish he hadn't ordered the quantum mirror be destroyed.

Still… I didn't cut him loose. I had every reason in the world, every opportunity. And yet, I clung on. Desperate to find that ever-elusive happiness, and desperately afraid I'd never have it in my life. We kept dating. Long distance relationship over a hectic, sometimes insane work schedule. Sometimes, I actually forgot he was a part of my life. When we were together, it was great; but when we weren't… he just wasn't that important. I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.

Then he pulled the rug out from underneath me again, and I had no idea which way was up. Not only rearranging his entire life—transferring his job, moving down to Colorado Springs—he had to go and pop the question. No more playing around at the so-called normal life, this was for real. This was serious. It was make or break time, and it terrified me like no system lord ever could. For days on end, I spun myself in circles over what to do. And every chain of thought, every spiral of conflicted emotions always led back to the same thing. The same person. And one thought reverberated through my aching head and heart over and over until I was ready to scream, or cry. What about Jack?

It took me two weeks to work up the courage to talk to him about it. And even then, I'd have kept waiting had he not sought me out. But instead of getting straight to the heart of the matter, I found myself repeating those same weak arguments I'd had with myself for the past fourteen days. And I heard Jack countering with exactly the same things I had been telling myself. I finally backed myself into the inescapable corner, swallowed my heart back down to my chest, and I asked him.

"What about you? If things had been different…" Then I chickened out. I couldn't, didn't dare say what I really wanted to say. Don't you want me? Don't you need me? Haven't you spent the last five years wondering if, when, how we could ever be more than just friends?

When all he would answer was, "I wouldn't be here," I think I felt all that hope shattering. After he left the lab that night, I cried my heart out for a good hour or more, until duty called. Then I dried my eyes, put my military mask back in place and walked out, intent on leaving all those unprofessional feelings locked tightly in that room for good.

I accepted. He was ecstatic, of course, and I did everything I could to will myself into feeling just as excited. It worked, but only for a short while. I quickly lost myself in work again, more dedicated and determined than ever to be the good soldier, to follow the rules, to do the right thing. In return, I got my ass knocked in the dirt with more humility than any one person should ever have to endure. I allowed the greatest threat to the entire universe to use my own thoughts, feelings, and morals against me. I failed so miserably. I let the world down. I let my friends down. I let Jack down. The guilt nearly ate me alive.

The man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with really couldn't comprehend what I was going through. Hell, I barely could. There were so many things I couldn't tell him, so much I didn't dare reveal. I could scarcely admit it to myself, how could I tell him? She used my feelings for Jack O'Neill to manipulate me into trusting her. The thought was devastating; the truth of it was utterly horrifying. I found myself retreating further and further into my shell. And everyone around me just kept right on going, hardly even noticing how much I had cut myself off from the world.

Through it all, I had one constant. Jack was always there, always by my side, on my side. He doggedly refused to let me bear sole responsibility for what happened with the Replicator. He rallied Teal'c and Daniel into a little moral boosting party. He never once chewed my ass out the way I felt I deserve, and somehow, that just made me feel even guiltier.

All through this, I felt myself drifting farther and farther from my betrothed, and I felt no urge to try and stop it. Things only got harder when SG1 was reunited off-world. The team was back. Jack and I were side-by-side doing what we do best—me fixing the ship, him blowing up the bad guys. It was wonderful, but all too short lived….

Revelations

For a while, our working relationship was back to normal, or as normal as we get, anyway. I still fought against the plaguing guilt of letting the Replicator escape, and I was growing increasingly uncomfortable around my fiancé, but I clung desperately to the façade of being the excited bride-to-be. If he thought anything was amiss, he didn't let on. If anything, he only got more excited. I tried so hard to feed off his excitement, still trying to will my emotions in the only direction I felt open to me.

Then the Replicators struck again, this time kidnapping Daniel. Guilt reared its ugly head stronger than ever; still, General O'Neill refused to allow me to dwell on it. Summoning up every bit of military training I had accumulated over my lifetime, I put the soldier mask on and did my duty. I was determined to somehow make up for letting that thing that looks and thinks and feels like me get away. I was determined to find a way to stop her, to stop all of them.

Dad joining our fight was a huge surprise, and quite a blessing. I don't think I've ever needed him in my life as much as I did at that point in time. Well… maybe when Mom died… Losing her was such a pivotal point in my life; I've seen firsthand what my life might have become if she had lived on past that horrible accident. On the road to what-might-have-been, fate played some horrendously cruel tricks. That blasted quantum mirror gave us a peak into a world that before I had never dared allow myself to dream. A world in which Mom was alive—and a world in which Jack O'Neill and I were free to pursue whatever emotional involvements our hearts fancied. That teasing glimpse was almost more than I could stomach, and that's probably the biggest reason why I voiced no objection over destroying the device.

There! You see? Once again, everything all comes back to Jack O'Neill. It always does. Always. I feel a shiver race down my spine as I recall that word slipping so softly from his lips, a memory so clear I can almost feel his breath caressing my ear. Its gotten to that point I dreaded most, where everything in my life all boils down to one man. Not just any man, of course. Hey, no one has ever accused Samantha Carter of thinking too small! So Naturally, the Only Man for Me just has to be the man responsible for saving this world, this entire galaxy enough times that even I have lost count; the greatest leader and commander I could ever hope to serve under; a man of such honor, respect, and courage; and of course, the sexiest damn thing to don a set of Air Force dress blues. And let's not forget the most important detail of all: Completely Off-Limits!

Off-Limits. Against Regulations. Inappropriate. Unprofessional. I clung to those words for seven cold, lonely years. Until I could hold on no longer. But when I finally let go, the last thing I ever expected happened…someone else caught me. Which wasn't so bad in and of itself… but the person I thought would be there, the man who was supposed to catch me, couldn't care less, it seemed, and it tore me up inside. Doubt festered, rotting away, decomposing the unspoken promises, and tearing to shreds everything I had thought to be the very foundations of our relationship.

Over and over, I feebly tried to reach out to him, and at every turn I was thwarted. Looking back now, I'm not sure if I accepted that proposal because I was so caught up in being openly wanted, or if it was a petty act of retaliation. The uncertainty shames me more than anything else, because it never went away. Doubts, fears, years of longing all repressed, held in check by the military mask, studiously ignored until they threatened to consume me whole. I never realized just how firmly that mask held, though, until Dad pointed it out after we defeated the Replicators.

"You redefined grace under fire," he told me. He was referring to my mediation between him, Selmak, and Ba'al. If I hadn't been there, they never would have been able to work together. And the fact that the mere sight of that monster made me want to wretch was apparently very well hidden behind my mask. I know probably better than anyone what Ba'al put Jack through, and I alone bear the responsibility for him even being in the situation in the first place. I know I'll probably never completely forgive myself; to this day the shadows of guilt haunt me, as I know he never would have agreed to anyone else's plea. He did it for me.

Throughout the ordeal on Da'kara, I stayed calm and cool. The consummate professional, I swallowed my pride and loathings in one hard gulp and did what I had to do. Come to find out, I'm a little too good at my job. The real shocker came when Dad revealed that he felt guilty for that, guilty that I had chosen to join the Air Force, guilty that my career was keeping me from what he believed I truly wanted in my life—or rather, whom. That, and the way he saw right through all the bullshit and smokescreens and cut right down to the heart of the matter.

He could see that I wasn't happy. No matter how hard I tried to keep up that mask, he saw right through it. Dad was a man on a mission his last days on earth, and that mission was, to my sheer astonishment, helping me find my way back to Jack O'Neill. He wasn't exactly subtle about it either. When you have precious little time, subtlety is a luxury one can't afford. He made his opinion of my fiancé as painfully clear as my own discomfort was when I introduced them. I think if anything was to show me how poorly that man fit into my life, that encounter with Dad was it.

Not only did Dad see how happy I wasn't, he also saw why. He knew, probably had for some time, about the close bond that has developed between Jack and me. To my utter amazement, though, he approved! My father, the bastion of military propriety, thought I shouldn't let the Air Force rules stand between me and my finding the happiness I deserve—with my Commanding Officer, for cryin' out loud! I never would have guessed that he carried a burden of guilt for having influenced me into joining the military. I can barely conceive of the notion; I truly love my career, and the life I have led through it. And yet, he saw it as the one thing holding me back. Of course, as he tends to be, Dad was right.

I knew what I had to do. Watching my father say farewell to friends and comrades from across the galaxy, it came to me with clarity of thought I had never experienced before. A poignant epiphany struck me, shaking my very soul, and redefining my sense of self. I really do have everything I want and need to be happy. I have for a long time, and I didn't need the so-called "normal life" outside of my work. I love my work, my job, my career, my life. I love the people I work with; they really have become my extended family. And at the center of it all, the very heart of the matter, I love the man I have been working with, serving with, learning from, for the past eight years. The man I would gladly lay down my life for, and who would, and has, done the same for me. The man who knows me inside and out, the man who has shared all those otherworldly experiences with me and truly understands.

After everything we've been through, after everything we've done for God and Country, we've earned the right to do the "wrong" thing. After all this time, it's the only right thing to do.

Fini


End file.
